The Silver Phoenix
by MaVieParMoi
Summary: Harry was all set to apparate back to England when he was almost taken for questioning by the Italian hitwizards. Why was Harry in Italy? What's going on? Harry becomes involved shoulders deep in a plan headed for disaster. And Draco Malfoy?


_**Disclaimer: I do not own anything HP related. It all belongs to JK Rowling, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Inc., Warner Bros., and any other entities involved**_

**Chapter 1: Wherein Things Seem Slightly Fishy, and Trust Isn't Given**

Harry Potter turned the corner before he was seen, and ducked into an alley to remove his glamour charm. Walking back out of the alley, he glanced around for a likely place to catch his breath. His orders were to stay nearby the scene for up to an hour, and Harry fancied himself a drink or two anyway. The alcohol wouldn't affect him as long as he wore his watch, thanks to the sobriety charm placed on it, but having a drink would give him something to do. Spotting the Italian Embassy Hotel just ahead, he began to move toward it. No one should notice anything amiss for at least a half hour, so he would hang around until just before the hit-wizards were summoned.

Harry walked quickly through the hotel entrance to the restaurant/bar in the back of the room. The bar had been aptly placed; it was the perfect place to people watch, because the bar was in such a position that it was much easier to see everyone walking by from a counter stool, and then it was to see individual faces in the restaurant from the hotel lobby. Harry took his wand slightly out of its holster in his suit jacket sleeve and murmured a quick concealing spell followed by a weightless charm for the container in his pocket.

Reaching the counter, Harry affected a charming grin and greeted the bartender good-naturedly as he took a seat on a corner stool. "I'd like a Black Dragon for starters," he said politely, and turned to face the hotel lobby while the middle-aged bartender mixed up his drink. It didn't take long, as it was only made with scotch, kahlua, and peppermint schnapps. He reached behind him for the shot, knocked it back deftly, and turned his attention back to the lobby once the cooling sensation of the mint schnapps swarmed his taste buds.

"Excuse me Mister," said the bartender suddenly in accented English with a touch of suspicion after seeing a certain alert charm flash from behind the bar counter. "Are you alone? The hit-wizards are looking for single travelers, and I have noticed that you are not native to Italy."

"No," replied Harry without turning around. "I am here with my cousin. He just had to stop by the bathroom before he met me here." Hopefully, if the bartender pressed him for information, Harry would be able to Obliviate him before any lasting damage was done. He needed to stay put incase a complication arose, and he really didn't want to be questioned at the moment.

As if by fate, just as he'd said this, he watched as a tall blond man, wearing a traveling suit much like the one Harry himself was wearing, walked swiftly across the hotel lobby followed by two inquiring Italian hit-wizards. The man neared the bar quickly, eyes scanning the few patrons inside carefully. Taking a chance, Harry exclaimed, "Salvatore, what has taken you so long? I've already begun without you." He held up his empty shot glass as proof of the man's delayed arrival.

The man neared closer to Harry, and shouted in return, "Perhaps it was you, Corin, who arrived early." Harry was thankful that the restaurant was nearly empty, for he didn't think that the other clientele would be too happy with their loud exchange. However, he was pleased that the unknown man seemed to have cottoned on to Harry's train of thought. Harry figured the man to be harmless, and if he wasn't…he'd activate that portkey when he came to it. When the man finally stopped in front of Harry, he heard a swift intake of breath that was only noticeable to Harry because of his trained hearing.

"Do you know this man?" the lead hit-wizard asked in hurried Italian as she gestured at Harry's faux-cousin.

"Yes, this is my dear cousin Salvatore. He has been to Italy before and wished to show me around," replied Harry in slow, enunciated English, playing the part of a tourist who assumed that no one outside of England could quite understand what he was saying. He figured that it wouldn't do for him to understand Italian, _and_ be fluent in it if he was having his cousin show him around. He didn't dare look at the blond man before him for fear that the man would ruin the charade.

"Alright then, you are free to go, Mr. — ?" said the woman with a bit of annoyance evident in her voice.

Harry didn't dare give a last name; because it was entirely possible that out of millions of choices, he would choose the wrong one. He was already bemoaning his entire plan. Why, when he met with superior later that night, that was going to be the first thing they discussed. He didn't even know what complications might arise, so how was he supposed to help with them? Luckily, the blond man was ready with an answer. "Mr. Delancy," he replied with a slight French accent

At the hit-wizards suspicious look, Harry hurried to explain, realizing that the French accent coupled with the English one _did_ seem a bit off. "See, his father is French, and his mother is Italian, and my mother is his father's sister, and my father is British..."

"Yes yes, we'll just be moving along now. Terribly sorry for the trouble," interrupted the second hit-wizard hastily. The woman still looked suspicious, but allowed herself to be led out of the bar without looking back once.

Harry turned towards the man who was to play the part of his cousin for as long as they were both in Italy(which hopefully would be a very short amount of time), and was surprised to see the face of Draco Malfoy staring back at him with equal surprise and barely veiled interest before his face changed into one of camaraderie and good cheer.

There would be time later for discussions, and Harry mused that he hadn't seen Draco Malfoy since Hogwarts, save a chance meeting at mutual acquaintance's party five years before. Pushing those thoughts aside, and well aware that the bartender was still watching them avidly he said, "Well, go on then…choose your poison. I've already gotten a good head start on you."

Draco/Salvatore turned toward the bartender, who was trying to pretend that he hadn't just been eavesdropping, and said, "I think I'd like a double brit," he mused to the bartender. Harry was impressed, for a brit was no weak shot, being gin and scotch together.

After a few more rounds, Harry made a show of checking his watch. "Oh, Sal," he said anxiously. "We've got to leave. I promised grand-mère that I would fire call her when I arrived tonight, and I'd hate to do that completely sloshed. You know how she lectures on."

After nodding in agreement, Draco dropped a few sickles down onto the counter and turned to leave. As they walked off, Draco murmured, "Which suite are we in again Corin? I've forgotten."

Harry answered just as quietly, "Suite 3432 on the 9th floor." Harry was thankful that his cover had allowed for a suite to be booked under his alias; at the time it had hardly seemed necessary, but now, it was a likely place to talk.

No sooner had he said this then Draco **disapparated**. Harry followed at once and headed directly for his suite from the apparition landing at the end of the hall. He found Draco waiting more or less patiently by the door, and they walked into the room together. While Draco lumos-ed the lanterns floating above them, Harry cast silencing charms all over his quarters. It would perhaps seem a bit suspicious that they were blocking the noise coming from their rooms for reasons other then sex, but it was better to do this than be sorry later if delicate information was released into enemy hands.

Once Harry finished casting the silencing charms, he turned around to find Draco leaning against the wall, looking at him with frank curiosity. "Sooo," said Harry slowly. "What brings you to Italy?" he finished lamely, figuring there was no need to jump into details about the past few years of their lives just yet.

"I'm actually here with Blaise Zabini," replied Draco easily. "He has a meeting with the Undersecretary to the Deputy Minister tomorrow, and invited me along for the weekend; I hadn't been to Italy since I before I left for Hogwarts, and the meeting is nearby his hometown."

"Zabini is certainly rising up in the Ministry then," Harry mused as his brain worked furiously. There was no real reason to believe that Malfoy's story didn't check out, but he hesitated from looking accepting for two reasons. First, he didn't want to have to explain what he was doing in Italy; after all, he hadn't been supposed to be seen by anyone who didn't already know he was there. Second, Harry himself had had a talk with one Blaise Zabini only a few hours ago, and Zabini was in Italy for much the same reason that Harry was. The meeting with the Undersecretary, while true, was only a cover story.

Deciding to think on it later, Harry made a show of nodding acceptance slowly, to demonstrate that he was still wary of Draco's explanation. After all, hadn't he been able to come up with a quick alias when the hit-wizards were questioning him? Not that Harry hadn't come up with one of his own, but maybe Malfoy would overlook that fact.

No such luck. "So, dearest cousin of mine, what are _you_ doing in Venice?" drawled Draco, stressing _dearest cousin_ as he spoke.

Damn. Harry had hoped that Malfoy would overlook that detail…And what was more annoying was that Harry had planned to only be at the bar for a short while, and then he was going to meet _Zabini_ of all people at a muggle pub in Torino. However, the hit-wizards had arrived on the scene earlier than he'd anticipated. If he had just quickly disapparated, the bartender might have remembered him, and his scar _was_ a prominent feature on his face. While his fame wasn't evident outside of Great Britain, a clue such as that one would be easy enough for any law enforcement to figure out given time. As it was, Harry still had to figure out how to get Draco out of the way so that he wouldn't be behind schedule meeting Zabini.

Racking his brain, Harry quickly clarified. "I was on my way from a friend's house…I have to go back to work tonight, so I decided to have myself a shot or two before I **apparated** back to England."

Draco nodded in what seemed like understanding, and then he smirked. "Just what have you been doing the past few years that allowed you to come up with cover stories at the drop of a hat? It's Slytherin-like to say the least."

"That's how I've always been," admitted Harry. "How else do you think that Gryffindor never came in last place for House points? It wasn't that I followed the rules."

"Besides, what have you been doing Malfoy," Harry continued. "I seem to recall that you didn't introduce yourself as Draco Malfoy from the start." Harry knew that Draco was no Death Eater, but his file had been considered confidential, so Harry had no idea what he'd done with is life recently. He seemed to have a different look about him, which was the only reason that Harry had allowed him into the suite.

Harry wasn't sure how to categorize him yet, but he was good at reading people; everyone had a story, and it wouldn't take long to figure out Draco's. He was already inventorying details that he had noticed about the man before him. However, Harry didn't have very long.

As it was, Harry was glad that he had taken off his glamour charm before he'd entered the building, or that would have been yet another thing to be questioned about. He was fairly confident that Draco was able to see through glamours just as he himself was, being the mark of a powerful wizard and all, and that would have raised unpleasant topics.

"I've been traveling—to this place and that place…Who's to say that I haven't picked up a few things along during my travels?" Draco asked this normally enough, but Harry knew that something wasn't quite right with Draco's statement. Nevertheless, he forced himself to think about it further. If Harry asked anymore questions, then Draco would feel justified in asking more questions; namely, about why Harry had a suite in the hotel when he'd said that he had been planning on just stopping by the bar before returning to England.

"Well, I've got to get going Malfoy," said Harry with a surreptitious glance down at his watch. If he could leave now, he would be able to be in place when Zabini arrived in Torino.

Draco nodded, and mentioned something about letting himself out of the suite when the coast was clear, but Harry wasn't paying much attention. Nothing that he had wanted to keep hidden had become common knowledge between them, and Harry wanted to leave while things stayed that way.

No sooner had Harry said "bye", then he **disapparated directly to the empty ally adjacent to the muggle bar, Fratelli Marx. Pointing his wand once at himself, he muttered the words to change his traveling robes and suit into something more suitable for a bar. He changed the suit into a green shirt and black pants; the robes into a leather jacket, and his tie became a wallet full of muggle money. Harry once again slipped his wand into his arm holster before he strode around the corner to the bar's entrance. **

**Walking inside, Harry glanced around to see if Zabini had already arrived as he checked his pocket to make sure that the container from earlier in the day was still safely inside. At the same moment that his hand reassuring hit the metal container, he spotted Zabini at a table in a dimly lit corner. Harry walked toward him quickly, already rethinking of the questions that he was planning to ask.**

Once he'd settled down across from Zabini and opened his mouth to begin his barrage of questions, Blaise said "Good to see you Potter; go ahead and order something while we wait for someone else to return from the bathroom."

Harry rose and made his way to the bar wondering who they were waiting for. As far as he'd known, Zabini had only handled him. He ordered two doubles of sangrita and then carried the remaining shot back to the table after he drank one. Sitting down again, he almost wasn't surprised to see Draco Malfoy once again inhabiting the same area as him. "I knew there was something fishy going on," he muttered to himself as Blaise grinned.

Draco, for his part, wasn't staring with his mouth open. Rather, he was only staring in disbelief from Harry to Blaise and back again. Finally, he reached across the table to the remaining shot glass, and knocked back the double swiftly. He shook his head quickly as if to clear the cobwebs from his brain and then looked back at Blaise again, clearly waiting for an explanation.

Blaise always had liked telling a good story, and with two anxious eyes on him, he was in his element. "I'm sure that you are both wondering what is going on…" he began slowly.

"Cut to the chase Blaise," exclaimed Draco. "Just because you have a higher rank than me, doesn't mean that you can draw things out here."

"Alright already Malfoy," smirked Blaise. "I was just about to begin, but I was just thinking that maybe you two should start from the very beginning plans of this operation. I can fill things in as you go. We have all the time in the world—or at least a few hours to spare. You won't have to conceal anything in your accounts, and you can continue up to what happened today. I've already put up notice-me-not charms up; we can be here as long as it takes."

Harry had a suspicious feeling about this whole encounter, and a glance at Draco told him that the blond was feeling the same unease with their direct order. Harry remembered that he was _never_ supposed to talk about anything potentially incriminating anywhere other than headquarters or a safe house. And a muggle bar in the middle of Italy was neither. Besides, from the way "Blaise was telling it, it seemed as though Harry and Draco were supposed to have worked_ together_ on something, which had definitely not happened.

Hoping that "Blaise" had been telling the truth about the notice-me-not charms, since he wouldn't have time to cast any, Harry released his wand from his holster and grasped it in his hand tightly before casting _Petrificus Totalus_ on the man that might or might not be Blaise Zabini. Draco followed this quickly with an _Incarceratus, _and magical ropes tied themselves around the frozen man's arms and legs.

By an unspoken agreement, Harry and Draco apparated directly to the suite in the hotel they had met at only a few hours previous; Draco in a side-along apparition with "Blaise", and Harry with the two glasses that "Blaise" had drunk from. He figured that he could return later to remove the notice-me-not charm and put back the glasses at the same time. They could be used in identifying the possible imposter.

Draco released his spell, and the magical ropes fell uselessly to the floor while Harry partially released the full body bind the impromptu prisoner had on him.

Harry glanced at Draco, who had made himself comfortable leaning against the wall directly behind the chair that "Blaise" was seated in. It was a common interrogative maneuver, designed to keep a suspect off balance, and one that Harry remembered learning during basic training. Standing in front of "Blaise", Harry wished for Veritaserum desperately. It would have made things so much easier. But he had to begin sometime, so he pushed aside all other thoughts, especially the confused ones containing Malfoy, and began to speak.

"So, what shall we call you hmm?" asked Harry in annoyance. "What have you done to Blaise Zabini, and why are you impersonating him?"

"Who are you working for?" Draco continued, causing "Blaise" to jump in his seat, having forgotten that there was someone behind him.

Having been found out, "Blaise" looked slightly frightened, but defiant. "All I am going to tell you can call me Avel."

Not ready to resort to drastic measures without conferring with his fellow captor, he re cast_ Petrificus Totalus,_ and then ushered Draco into the adjourning kitchen. Draco sat at the wooden table as Harry bustled around searching for coffee packets and a bottle of water in the kitchenette.

He knew that he could conjure coffee faster, but it wouldn't have quite the sobering effect he wanted it to have. Plus, he was a bit frazzled, and he needed something to do with his hands; it was either coffee or pacing, and Draco wouldn't appreciate the pacing like he would the coffee.

For a moment nothing was said. Each man was lost in his own thoughts until the aroma of coffee filled the small room. Harry placed a mug at each of the two chairs, and took a large swallow as he sat down. Draco took mouthful from his mug, and Harry could already see the difference in his face; the awareness, the anticipation of something to come. He understood it as well. The adrenaline was present every time, and that, above almost all else, was what convinced Harry that Draco had the same profession as Harry.

"I suppose that we should make sure that we are working for the same people before we go any further," said Harry, reluctant to think about the captive in the other room. "We can write it down on a piece of paper, and then we can switch; that seems to be the easiest way to do things."

"I suppose Potter," said Draco. "But what if we don't? Forgive me if I find us sharing a profession a tad hard to believe," he continued as he began to write on conjured paper.

"We'll see soon enough," replied Harry has he too, began to write. Once finished, the two of them folded their papers in half lengthwise and switched. Harry felt that they were making a production out of what didn't need to be so drawn-out, but he kept his thought to himself in lieu of the unmistakable partnership he and Draco were about to share, for however long a time.

"One, Two, Three," said Draco slowly, and as one, they opened their parchments.


End file.
